Beyond Axelrod
by Silverwyng1059
Summary: Axelrod has been impounded, but he wasn't the leader in the Allinol scam. Finn, Siddeley, and Holley must team up to find the real mastermind, but it won't be easy with Z escaped to a host of enemies much more dangerous than a pack of lemons.
1. Chapter 1: A New Mission

**A/N: I do not own Cars and most likely never will. Reviews are welcome.**

Chapter 01:

A New Mission

"It's for the best, Miss Shiftwell." That suave voice said once again, aiming for reassurance. When no answer came the sleek blue sports car turned in his seat to face her. "Miss Shiftwell?"

She sighed. "I know, Finn. Much as he annoyed me at first I have to admit he's grown on me." She glanced out the window. "Besides, I still haven't had the chance to show him around London."

"We're due to go out on another mission. Much as he helped with our last mission you have to admit he's very inexperienced."

"So am I."

"Inexperienced in the field is all you are, Shiftwell. He seems to be inexperienced with anything outside that little patch of desert he lives in. . . Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just dangerous for him to be in our position with such limited knowledge of the outside world."

"I know." She sighed, "I'm sorry, Finn. I know we're not supposed to have close friends in our line of work."

"Sometimes it's impossible to avoid." His thoughts went inward, remembering when he was a younger agent and had a new "associate" waiting for him in every major city.

"ETA is ten minutes." Came a new voice, scratchy over the radio.

"Roger that, Siddeley." Finn turned back to Holley, still sulking in her chair. "Think of it this way, if he was with us you'd be worrying over his safety every few minutes. You can be sure he's safe in Radiator Springs, surrounded by his friends."

Holley forced a smile as she stared vacantly out the window. There was a dull rumble throughout Siddeley's frame. She could see his flaps spreading out and flexing, no doubt he was getting tired from such a long flight.

In no time he was settling down gently on the tarmac of a small airport. A lone forklift stared confusedly as the jet floated downward like a helicopter. Finn and Holley glided down his ramp and onto solid ground. The air at this altitude was crisp and clear. The clouds above them seemed close enough to touch.

"Do you have the route?" Finn asked, careful not to say too much in front of the forklift.

"Of course, sir."

"Alright, then. If we set off now we should arrive by nightfall." He keyed his radio. "Siddeley, wait here for us."

"Roger that."

Finn nodded to Holley and started down a small, cracked road, giving one last cursory glance at the forklift.

"What's he doing here?" Holley asked once they were a mile away.

"I'm not sure. It could just be a curious local, but we'll need to be careful."

"Um, sir?"

"Yes, Miss Shiftwell?"

"You've missed our turn."

Finn stopped in the road, backed up and faced her. She had stopped beside a barely noticeable dirt road that had been covered over by brush and undergrowth.

"Perhaps you should lead." He bowed his front and pulled a bush back with his front tire. "After you, madam."

She smiled nervously and drove into the gap. . . and through more undergrowth. She scowled. Prickly branches scratched at her sides. She would need a wash and touching up when this was all over.

"Are you sure this is the right road?"

"Positive, Finn. Semi trucks were seen coming through this road."

Finn stopped in his tracks and backed up, eying the roadside. A stump caught his attention. Leaves covered the other stumps, so why not this one? He pressed a tire onto the top of it. The stump disappeared into the ground as the offending undergrowth retracted itself into the forest to either side of them, revealing a neat dirt road.

"Looks like you were right, Miss Shiftwell."

"Thank you, Finn." She paused to let him catch up. The road was wide enough for them to drive side-by-side. This new mission looked interesting already.

* * *

><p>Atop a cold and craggy mountain only a few miles away sat an ancient castle. Abandoned long ago, it had only recently been bought and inhabited. Although the only changes visible from the outside were lights in the windows and a few SUVs patrolling the area, the changes inside were much more extreme. In the former throne room of the castle sat a Harrier, his eyes partially obscured by a midnight purple visor. The room itself no longer resembled a throne room. The floors had been covered in white tile, the walls and ceiling in white paint. That was part of the reason he wore a purple visor. The visor itself was a computer monitor, colored purple simply because he grew tired of looking at the same white rooms day after day. He would have preferred to just restore the old stone, but his lab cars frowned on that severely. He might be the boss, but even he had to make concessions once in awhile.<p>

"Ah, Mister Cirrusworth."

He scowled. He could recognize that voice anywhere. "Zundapp. Back from prison so soon?"

"All thanks to you." The tiny car smiled impishly. "I hope you'll be happy knowing that the Allinol formula I concocted was a success."

"And yet you and Axelrod managed to botch the whole thing on the last race."

"All because of those CHROME spies. First there was Leland Turbo. He was enough of a hassle, but he was taken care of. When McMissile showed up—"

"I don't want to hear your excuses." His voice was low and soft, ominous as thunderheads gathering on the horizon.

"My 'excuses' are valid,_ sir_. Had CHROME not intervened the plan would have played through without fault. Perhaps next time you should place me with more reliable company, perhaps someone smarter than that oaf Axelrod."

All sound in the room stopped abruptly as the lab workers turned to watch a pompous little car face up to a full-grown fighter jet. Only the soft whirrs of computer fans could be heard as they echoed through the vast hall.

The Harrier's nose swept around, his purple-tinted eyes boring into Z's. "I will give you one last chance to make this work. You had better not fail again, _Professor_, or there will be dire consequences to pay."

"I assure you, I will not fail."

"I should hope not." He lifted his nose. "Dismissed."

Z turned and disappeared into a passageway. "Of course you should hope not, Gerald, you've got your whole life riding on this." He mumbled to himself. Reduced to performing lab work for an ex-CHROME jet, how demeaning.


	2. Chapter 2: Secret Passage

**A/N: Once again, I don't own Cars.**

Chapter 02: Secret Passage

"We're going to climb this? You've got to be joking!" Holley stared up the sheer cliff face in horror. The craggy grey stone reached up to puncture the bellies of low-lying clouds. Nothing grew here, save for the odd dry bush clinging to the ledges.

"Unfortunately not, Miss Shiftwell. There are far fewer security measures on this side of the mountain. You said it yourself."

Holley quieted. She was exhausted from the long trek uphill from the tiny airport. Being the older car, she assumed Finn would be feeling even worse than she. But he was the more experienced of the duo, and if he was feeling up to climbing a cliff she saw no reason to argue—much.

"We'd best get moving. Don't want to get caught up there in the morning, do we?"

"I suppose not." Holley's wings deployed, two sleek metal blades that protruded from either side. She was surprised when Finn's tire quickly clamped down on one.

"They'll hear your engines before you've traveled ten feet."

"How am I going to get up there?"

Finn smirked, a rear grappling hook dropping to the ground. "Hold on."

Holley barely had time to grab the hook before he'd fired both front bumperette hooks into the cliff face high above them. He reeled in the cables carefully, trying not to let Holley fall.

"How are you doing back there?"

"Well enough." Holley replied, wondering how long Finn's grappling system could take the weight of two cars. It seemed to be retracting the cables alright, she couldn't hear the screeching whine or detect the burned smell that usually told of overtaxed engines. She took a deep breath and let herself relax a little, eyes facing forward and avoiding the sight of her two rear-view mirrors.

Only a few moments later she felt a sickening weightlessness as the both of them began dropping. For a fleeting moment she saw that, high above them, Finn's grappling hooks still sat embedded into the cliff face, their steel cables frayed and blowing in the breeze. The grey stone rushed past them. The hook Holley was holding was slack.

Above her the older grey sports car swiftly corrected himself. There was a soft pop as Finn shot the cable from his undercarriage into the overhang and they came to a jolting stop.

"You alright, Holley?"

"Y—yes, Finn." She stammered, still tightly clutching the hook.

They began moving again, stopping to rest on the nearest ledge. Holley took the time to calm down and stop the bout of shivers that had come over her.

Finn inspected his severed cables and frowned, ignoring her. "I'll have to get these replaced once we get back. Perhaps upgrade to titanium."

Holley backed up into what looked like a small cave. The ledge was far too close for comfort. Against the chilling breeze she had grown used to there was a small puff of hot air. "There's a draft coming from over here. It's warmer than usual." She used her computer to scan the wall, and found a door built from stone that blended seamlessly into it. It opened easily, with only a gentle push.

"Not very tight security." Finn murmured, "keep an eye out. We don't need any casualties on this trip."

"Right." She whispered, scanning the tunnel for cameras or microphones. Nothing. They coasted in with engines shut off, headlights at their dimmest. It wasn't until Holley slammed nosefirst into a steel door painted matte black that they spoke again.

"Careful." Finn muttered. "Is it locked?"

Holley scanned it. "I'm afraid so. It's only a simple key lock, but it's been painted over, see?"

Finn inspected the keyhole. It showed signs of rust beneath a thick coat of black paint. "Are there any alarm systems around?"

"No, just the lock. And there's nothing in the tunnel behind it."

"A tunnel running through the heart of a mountain with two doors, one secret and one ancient and locked. I'd imagine there's something beyond it." Finn's rearview mirror swung forward, a flexible metal arm detaching from the rim of the mirror and chipping away at the paint. "Almost there." There was a deep, loud click and a piercing screech as rusted hinges let the heavy door swing open. Finn winced. "That must be audible through the whole mountain."

"Not likely. Both noises were high enough in pitch that they only traveled a few yards through the stone and didn't echo far down the tunnel."

Finn lifted a brow, looking at her through the green tint of the holographic display. When it disappeared he merely shook his front and coasted on with Holley following him deeper into the mountain.


	3. Chapter 3: Espionage

**A/N: This chapter was originally much larger, but I had to cut it down to keep any readers from getting headaches. This story is going to get pretty long. (I don't own Cars.)**

Chapter 03: Espionage

Finn and Holley crouched low, coasting along silently. They had stumbled upon a laboratory swarming with forklifts and cars. Gigantic tanks, such as the one they now hid behind, were scattered about all over the lab. A dizzying network of piping led up into the roof and through the floor. Dinoco signs were posted on tanks, pipes, even a few of the workers.

"Dinoco is in on the Allinol scandal?" Holley whispered.

"I don't think so. They weren't a major part in the Grand Prix race, and they don't have much of a stake outside the US." Finn reversed behind an empty semi tank trailer. "And they don't produce much jet fuel."

"Jet fuel? What does that have to do with—?" Holley stopped short once she saw the simply gigantic hangar. There was a short runway with a "ski slope" at the end, a set of gigantic metal doors above them that would open the crest of the mountain like a flower blooming. A collection of helicopters waddled or taxied around, keeping well clear of heavily modified cargo planes. At the far end was a group of young fighter jets, all looking around with wide eyes and confused expressions. Their types ranged from MiGs and Sukhois to Eurofighters and Avros, with a pair of American fighters thrown into the mix. Holley noted there were no hybrid or stealth jets, and all were small for their respective kinds. It would make it a bit easier to take off on the short runway.

"What would they want with planes?" She wondered aloud.

"I don't know." Finn admitted, staying low and out of sight. Avian craft were known for their exceptional vision. "Siddeley may be able to make more sense out of all this."

"Right, of course." Her holographic display blinked up, taking a scan of the hangar.

Finn spotted the green glow out of the corner of his eye. "What do you think you're doing?" He hissed, "they'll see you!"

She obediently turned the display off. "But I was just scanning—"

"There are jets everywhere, do you want them to see us?"

She winced, backing up a little. "I think I got enough for Siddeley to see."

Finn sighed. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, Miss Shiftwell, I just don't want you to get hurt."

Holley looked up again and froze. One of the fighters was staring straight at them.

"Finn?"

"I see it." He replied softly. "I'm just wondering why it hasn't raised the alarm by now."

The jet cocked its head and sniffed at them, blinking curiously. Then it backed away from the other jets and sneaked off.

"This is bad. I can't see where it went between all these accursed tanks and cargo jets." Finn glanced to either side. "We need to move, now. Stay close to me." He turned swiftly, squeezing between a tangle of pipes and the wall. He used his magnetic tires to drive through it sideways, Holley behind him having an easier time with her smaller frame. "There's a dark room up ahead. Looks like part of some smaller hangars."

Holley stopped dead, her tires squeaking on the slick cement floor. "Watch out!"

Ahead of them sat the jet, watching them with bright, alert eyes. "Who are you? Why are you sneaking around?"

Finn cursed under his breath, slowly letting himself down onto the floor. "We're doing a surprise inspection of the piping and electrical systems. We'd appreciate it if the supervisors didn't know about our presence until we're finished. He may try to hide damaged parts from us, you know?"

Holley stared in disbelief. She didn't know anyone could lie so smoothly.

The jet lowered its head to look at them more closely. Its eyes glanced from Finn to Holley and back. "You're both anxious. If you've got that much authority then you'd have no reason to be. Are you hiding something?"

"Yes, I just told you. Hide our presence from your supervisors until we're finished with our jobs, then we'll be more than happy to meet with them and give them a briefing on what we've found." Finn coasted forward a couple of feet, finally noticing that the jet was female. "Now if you'll excuse us, madam."

He drove around her, trying to keep an air of snootiness. Holley was behind him, but she stayed crouched, her eyes darting about warily.

"Do try to keep your chin up, Miss Shiftwell." Finn murmured, "I know this is your first day, but you'll grow used to the stress." He winked.

"What? Oh! Of course, how silly of me." She laughed nervously and made a conscious effort to ride higher on her suspension.

The jet lifted a brow in skepticism, but stayed where she was. "You're not from around here, are you?" She whispered to herself.


	4. Chapter 4: Escape

**A/N: If I could own Cars I would, but I can't so I don't. Thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate it!**

Chapter 04: Escape

"Have we lost her?" Finn asked.

"I think so. The passageways that lead to this area are too small for a jet her size to fit through."

Finn sighed. They had made their way into the castle itself. In hiding once again, they hadn't seen as many cars as in the lower regions of the mountain. These all seemed to be the administrators of the operation, top scientists and their assistants.

"I saw a filing room up ahead. Anyone in there?"

"I'm afraid so, Finn. Two SUVs and a network of scanners. The door requires a card key."

He scowled. All the important documents were likely in there. They'd need a distraction.

"Out out out! Out of my way!" A German accent came echoing down the hall.

"The Professor? Here?" Holley asked, picking him up on her scanners.

"Just what we didn't need."

The tiny green car sped down the hall, swiping his card key in the door. The two black SUVs inside kept well back, their expressions becoming nervous.

"I've got a plan, and it involves that little lemon." Finn whispered.

"What is it?"

"Follow my lead."

The Professor had grabbed a single page and tucked it into his wheel well, then slammed the door closed. "Imbeciles. They can't even perform basic algebra." He muttered to himself.

As he passed, Finn extended a gripper claw from his own wheel well. He delicately reached out and snagged the paper before Z disappeared around the next corner.

"That was it?" Holley asked.

"Shh."

They waited, just to be sure no other cars were coming. Then Finn unfolded the paper. "It's a series of mathematical formulas."

Holley glanced at the page. A list of algorithms covered the page, written in tiny script. It gave her a headache just to look at it.

"We'll need to send it to the lab for analysis." He peeked out of their hiding place, then coasted down the hall.

"Finn, wait!" Holley whispered loudly.

Finn froze.

"I thought I had dropped my paper, but it turns out someone has stolen it."

He gritted his teeth, keeping an eye on the Professor in his rearview mirror. "Hello again, Professor. How are you enjoying the fugitive life?"

"It couldn't be better. I have a much larger paycheck." He drove forward. "Guards! Intruders!"

"Run!" Finn gunned his engine and shot forward, Holley right behind him.

* * *

><p>The air had warmed a bit since Siddeley had woke from his previous nap. There was also an incessant jabbing at one of his foretires. With a scowl he opened an eye and glared down. The forklift again, looking him over with the air of someone inspecting a tractor at auction.<p>

"Can I help you?" Siddeley asked dryly. The last time he'd been inspected like this was back when he was flying for a VIP charter service, and VIPs could only be seen riding in the best jets.

The forklift muttered something and poked Siddeley's nose with a tine, then used it to lift his head and inspect his neck.

Siddeley shook him off and taxied backward, growling in annoyance. The forklift advanced on him, yelling loudly in the same language.

Siddeley opted for a new approach. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"

The lift looked up at him blankly.

"Parlez-vous francais? Habla espanol? Parli italiano?"

He didn't even glance up this time. He resolved to ignore the tiny thing as it roved about his undercarriage, prodding and poking at his wingroots, tires, flaps, ailerons. Annoying as it was, he couldn't simply leave until he knew his partners were safe, and he didn't want to hurt the lift.

Besides, all his classified equipment, cloaking devices, missiles, guns—among other, more personal objects—were all safely tucked away out of sight.

_Siddeley, emergency! Take off and circle the mountain at once, wait for us. This may get a bit tricky._

Finn's voice. Siddeley could recognize it anywhere.

_Roger that, Finn. I'm taking off now_.

With that he spooled up his engines, startling the forklift away, and lifted off vertically. He could see the mountain in the distance, but the castle was enshrouded in early morning fog. Tricky indeed, he'd have to be very careful not to crash into anything.

_Standby. We're going to open the mountaintop._

Open the mountain? How did he plan on doing that? _I'm circling. Just tell me when you're ready._

A few moments later there was a dull rumble. Siddeley blinked, a crack had appeared running from the mountain's crest down several hundred feet. Metal plates unfolded, taking the mountain's skin with it. Thin, powdery snow drifted down. The clouds swirled around the plates. Within the plates Siddeley could see a runway, a network of tanks and piping, even a row of hangars. Siddeley banked to fly over the runway, spotting Finn and Holley driving quickly down it.

There was a flash of light off to his left. He dove, a rocket flying past barely missing his tailfin.

_They're firing!_

_Hold, Siddeley. We're almost to the slope._

He angled to the side and opened his ramp. _Come on, Finn!_

Finn put on an extra burst of speed and used the "ski slope" to leap into the air, using his magnetic tires to hold onto Siddeley's flank as he sped past. He carefully backed up to the ramp.

_Where's Holley?_ Siddeley asked, looking around frantically. A streak of purple passed by his nose.

_I'm right here, Siddeley._ She landed beside Finn on the ramp and folded in her wings.

A fresh barrage of rockets and gunfire went over his wing. He lifted the ramp to protect the cars inside and sped away, but there was a new threat. A Harrier with a purple visor was lifting off vertically from the balcony of a two-story hangar.

_Problem, Finn. There's a Harrier coming up to meet us._

_ Can you outrun it?_

_ Not if it's who I think it is._

Siddeley prepared to dive into the mountain range, ready to try and lose the fighter among the sheer cliffs and ground clutter. Then he heard a new set of engines behind him. A sleek grey Gripen climbed quickly and banked into the Harrier's path, catching him in her jet wash. The fighter tumbled lower and clipped his wing on a pipe, spilling jet fuel over the tarmac. He quickly landed nearby, his wing mangled and bent.

The Gripen used a split-s to cut under one of the petals and avoid the gunfire being directed at her. _Are you alright?_

_We're fine._ Siddeley replied, confused. _Who are you, exactly?_

_A friend._


	5. Chapter 5: Questions

**A/N: I don't own Cars. Also, from here on you won't be seeing many cars, mostly aircraft.**

Chapter 5: Questions

An hour later the two jets had landed safely at a nearby CHROME safehouse. A copy of Professor Z's paper had been emailed to London, Finn and Holley were warming themselves in a garage on the small airport, and Siddeley was resting with the Gripen in the hangar.

"What is your name, miss?" He asked.

"I don't know. I can't remember anything before a couple of months ago."

"What do you remember? Any information at all will be helpful."

"Well. . . the first thing I can remember is waking up in a hangar in that mountain. There were a bunch of us. None of the others had memories, either. It was like our minds had been erased."

"How long ago was this, exactly?"

"About six and a half weeks. They spent a long time training us to do aerobatics, sometimes we'd spend fourteen hours a day just flying and studying. That Harrier guy flew with us a lot, too. He taught us how to coordinate ourselves so we wouldn't fly into each other."

"A Harrier with a purple visor?"

"Yeah, he was that guy I tried to hit."

Siddeley blinked. "I'm not sure if I heard that last bit right, did you say you were trying to run into him?"

She blushed and looked away. "Yeah, but he moved at the last second and I missed."

"You could have been killed."

"Just as long as I took him with me." She muttered. "He treated us like we were just a bunch of ultralights. There were five of us sleeping in a hangar meant for one bizjet. They cleaned and painted us and gave us scores on looks and flying ability. It was like we were livestock."

He winced. He couldn't imagine being trapped indoors. To be locked into a cramped space with four other jets, and to know that even if he managed to get out there would be yet another roof holding him down, he would surely go mad.

"Anyways, we were supposed to do this big airshow over the Grand Prix when it came to London, but Gerald made us leave early. He seemed really angry."

"I can imagine."

"We haven't done much of anything since two days ago, we haven't even been allowed to fly. Except we did get to sleep outside the hangar last night."

Siddeley contemplated her a minute, then nosed a button on the wall. The hangar doors, one in front and one behind, rattled open. Then he turned off the lights.

"Why'd you turn them off?"

"Gerald used to be in CHROME, he may know about this safehouse. With a new moon out and cloud cover blocking the stars I think we can risk opening the doors for the night." He knew he was breaking protocol in hundreds of different ways, but he didn't care at the moment. Sensors planted around the airport would alert them of cars sneaking around, the only thing he was worried about was a jet flying over with infrared sensors.

The Gripen coasted forward slowly, arching her neck to peer up at the sky. Not that she could see much, everything was pitch black.

"We'll need to stay indoors, I'm afraid." He warned.

She stopped and backed up, content with watching the lights of a nearby town flicker in and out. "Thanks. I really can't remember the last time I got to rest in open air."

"It's not a problem. Could you tell me what happened once you got back to the mountain?"

"Nothing much. Once we got back everything got quiet. No one was training, supplies weren't being shipped, it was like we'd been sealed off from the world."

"And I suspect Gerald became something of a hermit?"

"Yeah." She looked at him, surprised. "How did you know?"

He sighed, "I knew him when we were in CHROME. I first met him at the training academy."

"So why'd he leave?"

"Well, it wasn't voluntary. He was fired." Siddeley looked over to the garage. It was quiet and dark, Finn and Holley were probably asleep. "He went into interrogation and was very successful. He worked on every kind of vehicle, from forklifts to cargo jets. If someone refused to give up information, then most likely they would be sent to Gerald. He could make a boulder confess everything."

"Why was he fired for that?"

"You're sure you want to hear it?"

She nodded.

Siddeley started his story with the day the brass had asked for a video camera to be installed in the interrogation room. Gerald and his assignment, a rogue tank from a Somalian crime ring, had gone in. Everything had started out normally. The Harrier had tried intimidation, bribery, threats, but nothing worked. Then he became more creative. He had immobilized the tank's turret by tying it upright, pointing at the ceiling. Then he had started running droplets of mildly corrosive acid down it. The tank's eyes had begun to water, but nothing else happened. The next hour of footage had consisted of increasingly more painful techniques, from filing away thinner sections of armor to forcing the eyes open until they dried out. None of them had left obvious physical marks, in fact the tank's already dented and scratched hide made them look nonexistent.

The brass had been left shocked and indecisive. Some wanted to have him imprisoned, others wanted to have the whole thing covered up and let him continue doing his job. They settled on firing Gerald, ending his career in CHROME and blacklisting him from working in the military. He had left the country the next day and disappeared.

"He never said anything about any of that."

"There aren't many that know the story. I just know because he called on me to testify to his good character. Not that it made much difference."

"Are you still friends?"

Siddeley snorted. "Not hardly."

"Oh, sorry."

"We'd best get some sleep. Probably another long day tomorrow." He yawned and settled onto his landing gear.

"What's your name?"

"Pardon?"

"You never told me your name."

"It's Siddeley, Siddeley O'Flian."

"Goodnight, then, Siddeley."

"'Night." He replied with another nosejab at the wall console. The door behind them rolled closed. Safe or not, he didn't want anything sneaking up behind him.

As he tried to sleep he thought about the airshow. If Gerald had been leading the Allinol scam, for what purpose? He had been taking a group of young jets to London to perform, probably flying on the modified fuel. Had he been planning on blowing their engines in the middle of the show? Siddeley shuddered. The jets would have tumbled out of the sky one by one, crashing into the heart of the city. With the Grand Prix on there would have been a huge crowd, thousands to be hurt or killed by flying debris and burning jet fuel. It would have been a disaster. If Gerald hadn't turned back. . . Siddeley shook his head, refusing to think of it any more. He only wanted to rest, to save up his energy for the next day.


	6. Chapter 6: A New Team

**A/N: I don't own Cars.**

Chapter 6: A New Team

When Siddeley woke up the Gripen was still there beside him. During the night she had sank on her landing gear to rest on the cold concrete floor, her tires only folded in partially. The door was still open, the garage still dark and quiet. The exception was Holley, who was pacing back and forth between the two buildings.

"Something wrong, Miss Shiftwell?" He asked. The sound of his voice woke the sleeping jet beside him.

"Finn told me to wait with you out here. He said he received an urgent message from HQ last night."

"Is it about the paper?"

"I don't know, he didn't say."

The two jets were fully awake at that point, watching the garage door anxiously as Holley continued driving circles. After what seemed like an hour the form of a silver sports car emerged. Holley pounced, stopping him before he was out of the doorway. "Well?"

Finn sighed. "This is something you all need to hear, all at once." He passed her and came to rest before the jets. "Our supervisor sent a message last night. After what happened in the castle he thinks it's too dangerous for us to return."

"Too dangerous? How is it more dangerous than chasing down those lemons in Porta Corsa and London?" Holley asked, incredulous. "They nearly killed us in Big Bentley and they think _this_ is dangerous?"

"Miss Shiftwell, I have to agree. We had a difficult time simply climbing the mountain. At those altitudes, and with all those aircraft around, we were at a great disadvantage. We were lucky to get away yesterday."

"I can fly, Finn!"

"Perhaps you could hold your own with a chopper, yes. But fighter jets, Holley? I saw a certain Harrier there yesterday. He's very dangerous. CHROME gave him a performance overhaul that put him on par with an F-15, they never had a chance to take those parts from him."

"If not us, then who will do the mission?"

Finn drove past her once again. "Siddeley, I'm putting you in charge of this mission. A Typhoon has been sent from London and should be here shortly, he'll be your temporary partner. Can you do this?"

"Of course, Finn. Where will you be?"

"I've contacted Stephenson, he's waiting at the station for us. We'll be nearby if you need any help, Siddeley."

"Don't worry, Finn."

"Good luck." He reversed and drove for the gate. "Come, Holley."

She grumbled but followed him, eyes narrowed and frame slung low to the ground.

"So now what do we do?" The Gripen asked.

"We wait for our Eurofighter friend to arrive." He replied.

"Guess I'll just take a nap, then." She yawned and curled up on the ground, resting her head on her wingtip.

Siddeley sank into silence, mulling over the briefing he would give the Typhoon. This was only the second time in his career that he had been in charge, the first had been in a surprise mission that he'd thought was real until the very end, when his tutors had magically appeared from behind a one-way mirror. Finn had been there, and that had been the first time they'd met.

The whine of approaching engines put him on alert. He turned on a monitor built into the wall, which displayed a radar map of the area. A single triangle was flying straight for the airport. Its IFF identified it as a Typhoon. Siddeley sighed in relief, glad it wasn't a Harrier.

A minute later a jet landed smoothly on the runway, his wing pylons hung with missiles.

"Sorry I'm late, had a few problems getting in the air. Runway's all busted up at HQ, had to taxi out to Heathrow to take off." He scoffed, "airliners everywhere. I was playing limbo trying to get through all those huge wings." He glanced at Siddeley. "No offense."

"None taken." He nudged the Gripen awake.

"Who's this? The little bird who followed you home yesterday?" He nodded, "pleased to meet you ma'am. Name's Mortimer."

"Hi Mortimer."

"And who might you be?"

"Siddeley, and this is. . ." he trailed off, realizing he didn't know the Gripen's name. "Pardon me, but who are you?"

"Sagodja." She blinked. "Did I not tell you before? Sorry."

"Now, what's our first order of business, Chief?" Mortimer asked, glancing between the two jets. "Where are you two going unarmed like that? You'll be dead in a minute if Gerald is still out and about."

"I have plenty of ammunition, thank you," Siddeley replied. "However, Sagodja, I would like for you to stay here while we're out."

"What? But I know the mountains better than either of you."

"I know, but we'll manage. Listen, I'd like you to stay here in case there is any trouble, alright? If anything goes wrong we'll send out a distress signal. You should be able to pick it up here, on this monitor. Stephenson and Finn should also pick it up, but they're too far away to be of any use if we need help quickly."

"Got it, you want me to come to your rescue, right?"

"That would be amusing, don't you think?" Mortimer smirked. "The damsel coming to rescue the knights who went off and got themselves stuck in the castle. I suppose Gerald could play the part of the dragon, what with his temper and all."

Siddeley sighed, unlocking a concrete bunker. He pulled out a cart laden with rockets.

"Our missiles are custom-made, for various reasons."

"Classified reasons, I should add." Mortimer said.

"They wouldn't fit onto your hardpoints, I'm afraid. These rockets are unguided, but they should do the trick if you're caught in a tight spot."

She lowered her wing onto a pod of rockets and felt it attach with a satisfying _click_. "They're not very heavy."

"Special fuel and explosives courtesy of CHROME scientists."

"Siddeley." Mortimer interrupted, "aren't you forgetting about her gun?"

"We only have twenty millimeter rounds, they're too small for her."

"With any luck things will go smoothly and she won't have to come after us." The Typhoon turned and taxied to the runway. "Now if we're all done here I'd like to get back in the air before sundown."

"Stay here, wait for the signal. Alright?"

She nodded. "Got it."

Siddeley taxied out of the hangar and onto the runway, casting a final glance back before following the Typhoon into the air. They flew back toward the craggy mountain peaks together as Siddeley wondered if everything really would be all right.

* * *

><p>Gerald sat perched on a cliff several miles away from the castle. His drab grey paintjob helped him blend into the rocks well. The purple visor was another story, but he still refused to take it off. The mountain range around him made it impossible for vegetation to grow, with its sheer cliffs and hulking boulders no plant could find enough soil to take root. The area for miles around was a world in greyscale, not even the rocks carried any color. And so he wore the visor both to add a little vibrancy to the scenery and to convince himself that he wasn't going colorblind.<p>

It was a lifeless world up there, with the only sounds coming from the wind and high-flying birds. Sound, when it was there, tended to echo eerily through the chain of mountains. Sitting where he was he could hear pebbles skittering down a steep slope, the low howl of the wind from down in the foothills, even the sound of jet engines approaching. There weren't any more shipments coming in, he'd canceled all flights.

_Siddeley._ He smirked. The plane who'd tutored him back at the academy in exchange for V/STOL lessons. What was he doing here?


	7. Chapter 7: On Approach

**A/N: I don't own Cars. **

Chapter 7: On Approach

Siddeley led the way through the mountains with Mortimer just off his wingtip. They flew well below the peaks, wary of any AAA or SAM sites that could be hidden within the trenches. If Gerald could hide an entire airport within a mountaintop, then it would be well within his abilities to hide a few small missile launchers. He was also afraid of any new explosive toys that the Professor could have invented.

_Look sharp!_ Mortimer shouted over the radio. The Typhoon dove suddenly, using the boulders as cover.

Siddeley followed quickly. Dust and stone chips went flying from the cliffs just above his T-tail. He glanced around nervously, looking for a muzzle flash, tracer rounds, the smoke trail of a missile. He spotted a massive Chinook hovering over the snow-covered peak of a mountain, its side doors open. A gatling gun manned by an SUV was inside, its sights trained on them. The muzzle followed them smoothly, the helicopter turning to make sure they stayed in range. Siddeley was glad the van was an awful shot; he could sense the rounds hitting the rock face far behind him.

_Cease fire. I want them alive._ The new voice was calm and collected. The Harrier it belonged to was cruising through thin clouds high above them.

_Hello, Gerald. Long time no see._ Siddeley replied dryly.

_Siddeley. Good of you to join us._

_I'm in no mood for small talk at the moment, you two._ Mortimer interrupted. _Siddeley, keep him distracted. I'll go for the Chinook._

_You do realize that I can hear every word of that marvelously complex plan of yours, _Typhoon?Gerald replied scathingly. _You must have spent five whole seconds thinking that one up._

_ Okay, that's it. You cheeky little dwarf, I'll show you a thing or two! _The Typhoon fired his afterburners and rocketed straight up. The much smaller Harrier banked and dove to get out of the way, then quickly turned and began his own climb.

Siddeley took the opportunity to break away from the fight, weaving between the mountain peaks until he was directly behind the Chinook. Both chopper and van were too busy watching the two jets circle each other and trade insults over the radio to notice him. He aimed carefully before firing, hitting the chopper squarely in the tail section and sending it into a spin. It fell like a stone before landing roughly in the snow and rocks of the mountainside. The gatling gun snapped off from its platform and went tumbling away, the SUV left clinging to the copter's doors for dear life.

_Chinook down._ He announced, then banked off to the side. He could see the castle ahead, and the hollowed-out mountain it sprouted from. A faintly visible line of tracers went arcing through the air, a deadly fireworks show launched from a AAA gun on the castle's wall. Siddeley dove out of the way.

_I said cease fire!_ Gerald repeated. _I want them both alive and unharmed._

The tracers stopped abruptly. An Apache and two Hinds lifted off from the castle courtyard and flew toward him. They didn't concern Siddeley very much, considering he could outrun them easily. He was more alarmed by the sight of a petal of the mountain's peak opening and a flight of fighters soaring into the air. One Falcon, one Fulcrum, two RAF Tornadoes.

He cursed and banked sharply, feeling the Gs tug painfully on his wings and t-tail. Though he'd had upgrades to strengthen his wingroots and fins, his kind still wasn't advised to do aerobatics. The four jets joined into a close diamond formation, then pulled upward and flipped over in an Immelman maneuver that would have made the Red Arrows proud.

_Hold on, partner! _Siddeley spotted Mortimer zooming toward them on full afterburner, flying through the middle of the diamond and forcing the fighters to break formation.

_You alright, Siddeley?_

_ I'm fine. Keep the fighters busy._

_ What are you going to do?_

_ I'm going pay a visit to the Professor. Cover me._

_ Oh, I'll do better than cover you._ The Typhoon rocketed upward once again. He flared his brakes and slowed, then pitched his nose over and fell toward the fighters. They expected him to fly through their formation again and parted just enough to let him pass. They weren't expecting him to release flares and chaff in their midst. The flares burned like tiny suns, blindingly brilliant and very, very hot. The chaff, a cloud of finely shredded metal, would irritate their nostrils and engines at best, chip a few turbofan blades at worst.

It had the desired effect. A Tornado broke away and climbed, coughing and wheezing from the chaff. The other Tornado pulled straight up, blinking painfully and shaking its head. The Falcon had gotten the worst of it, with one wing singed by a flare and its only engine letting off a fine trickle of black smoke. The Fulcrum, who had been flying at the front of the formation, had come out unscratched, but pulled back to tend to its wingmates.

Siddeley took his chance, flying through the still-open mountaintop. Gerald had disappeared from the fight outside, and he was nowhere to be seen inside. Siddeley braked hard and angled his engines. No time to worry about that, now. His current concern was the Professor. The little car was a genius, capturing him would cripple Gerald's operation and give them access to some valuable information. He landed softly on the cold tarmac. Halogen lights built into the ceiling gave everything harsh, sharp shadows.

No sign of the lemon. No sign of anything. The sheds and hangars were empty shells. No choppers, planes, cars, trucks, nothing but a few broken crates and a pile of trash in one corner. He taxied to the fuel tanks and sniffed at the ground. The place stank of cargo jets. A hose had been left connected to a maze of pipes, the valve still open. It lay on the ground dripping fuel. Gerald had been in a hurry to move all his things out. He glanced back to the triangle of slate grey sky. He could hear the faint roar of jet engines and the anemic _whop-whop-whop_ of helicopter rotors struggling in the high-altitude air; the sharp _crack_ of a sonic boom. Still no sign of a Harrier.

He spotted a large passageway that led farther down into the mountain, all four sides painted a flawless white. He found that he could squeeze through, barely. If the Professor wasn't up with the hangars, then he was bound to be farther inside. The scent of chemicals, fuel, and oil wafted from deeper inside. It smelled fresh. Was he still down there, doing experiments?

* * *

><p>Mortimer pulled up with all the strength he could muster, flexing his wings against the buffeting wind. Vapor trails outlined his path, the Fulcrum right on his tail. The two Tornadoes were flying in tandem, slipping through cracks and diving down into the canyons. They flew the route without hesitation, Mortimer noted grimly. They had obviously done so many times before. The Falcon, its wing scorched by the flare, flanked his other side. Four planes, one left, one behind, and two to the right. But there had been five planes before, where had the other gone?<p>

He made a sudden turn around a mountain peak and flew toward the castle. Two choppers perched side-by-side on a tower, looking up toward the open mountain. Siddeley had gone in there, had Gerald followed him? He banked and looked inside as he flew by. The whole place was empty. No Siddeley, no Harrier, not even a forklift. He fought back feelings of panic and turned to make another pass. The four jets were back in formation, flying above him.

He ignored them for the moment. They weren't shooting at him, no missiles hung from their wings, they weren't even very good at boxing him in. He circled the mountain slowly, just shy of stalling, and got a second look. Still nothing. The missing Harrier gave him a sick feeling, was he still alright?

_Siddeley, you there?_

Static.

_Well, if you can hear me, keep an eye out for Gerald. He's left the party early. I can't see him anywhere._

More static. Mortimer wondered how far a radio signal could reach into the mountain. He gritted his teeth. If he landed and went inside to look for Siddeley, then he might be trapped if the mountain was closed up again. The other four jets might land as well and gang up on him. He couldn't fight as well on the ground as he could in the air. His missiles would also be useless, not that he was about to use them now.

He tensed. Why wasn't he being shot at? He hadn't heard a peep from any SAM sites, just a few pea shooters. The jets hadn't been carrying any missiles, either. Were their guns also empty? He looked back and saw them formed up on his tail. They weren't in a hurry to outflank him anymore, they just coasted lazily behind him.

He scowled. He had flown right into a trap. He and Siddeley had been separated, then the four behind him had kept him occupied while Gerald sneaked off. Where were they now? Underground, with no radio reception. No way for Siddeley to send off a distress signal, no way for Mortimer to call in and see if he was alright. Was he even still alive? The only way to be sure was to land and go looking for him, but then Gerald would have what he wanted. Both birds caged inside, where they couldn't take off. He looked into the dreary airport. His partner was in there, alone. He had to do something. He took a deep breath and lined up on the runway. The lights flickered on, guiding him in. A trap, indeed.


End file.
